


Staircase

by Serai



Series: High Contrast [42]
Category: The Faculty (1998)
Genre: First Time, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-14
Updated: 2016-12-14
Packaged: 2018-09-08 15:05:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8849611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serai/pseuds/Serai
Summary: First time, continued.





	

.  
Zeke's laugh is low and hungry as he catches Casey by the waist when he slumps against the door. "Whoa there," he murmurs, smiling into the damp of Casey's hair. He runs his lips over along overheated skin. Casey's gasping, and Zeke sees him wince with a strangled little noise. "You okay?" he whispers.

Casey nods. "Just gimme a sec." Zeke nuzzles him and waits until he's got his breath back. After a moment, Casey turns to him, and Zeke feels his blood throbbing. Because now that he's come, Casey's apprehensive again. Zeke can see it in his transparent eyes, that little bit of fear. Zeke doesn't want a victim, he doesn't want Casey terrified of him, but still there's something sweet in that little bit of fear. In the way it keeps him balanced on a knife edge, wobbling between pulling back and falling in. Zeke lets it spin out a little longer, slowly grinding his hips against Casey's body, then pushes the heel of his hand down over Casey's hip and thigh and back up, avoiding his groin. He figures Casey'll let him know when he's ready. 

The hairs on his arms rise in a rush as a warm hand slides over the back of his neck. It pulls, and they're kissing, and now Casey's warming up again, hungrily sucking at his tongue. His other hand fumbles at Zeke's waist, pulling up his shirt, sliding over his skin to his back and then plunging down under his jeans. Zeke feels strong fingers sliding over the curve of his ass and squeeze, and he thrusts hard, making Casey groan into his mouth. Zeke breaks the contact.

"C'mon," he says, tugging at Casey's hand, and turns to the stairs. He's a few steps up into the shadow of the stairwell when he feels the boy hang back, and turns to look at him. Casey's eyes glitter for a moment, and he licks his lips nervously. "Zeke," he says, his voice tight.

Zeke hears the hesitation, and slowly sits on a step, his elbows on his knees. He keeps his thighs spread, because his dick doesn't give a shit about anything just now, least of all being unthreatening. His brain is buzzing with it, but he manages a slow smile, and leans back. "I'm not gonna drag you up the stairs, Case," he says. 

\---------------

Zeke's face is shadowed, his eyes unreadable. Casey isn't sure what to do, isn't sure what's safe. He keeps bumping into his own fear, too many sense memories of being battered and slammed against lockers and flagpoles and cement floors. What if he does something wrong? What if Zeke turns mean? He's never hurt Casey before, but that doesn't mean he won't. But Casey wants him, wants this, and he can feel that this is it. Either he does this or he doesn't, because Zeke won't wait around for him to change his mind.

He looks at Zeke, spread out on the stairs so casually. He's close – Casey's only standing two steps down, which puts him at just the right level if he wants to kneel on the next step and… He turns his eyes away, feeling like he's going to start shaking any second, and looks at the wall. 

There are photos hung there, family pictures in plain metal frames. Trees, grass, picnics, a beach. Casey's gaze catches on one: a mall Santa photo. But this one is unique: Santa minus his red coat and hat, slumped fast asleep in his chair, a picture book open across one thigh. Cradled in the crook of Santa's elbow is a toddler, also fast asleep. _Damn,_ Casey thinks. _That's a really good Santa._ The baby's head is thatched with dark hair, thick for such a little kid. He's frowning a tiny frown, and the shape of his cheek and the cant of his eyebrows make it clear who he is.

"This you?" he asks. He looks back to Zeke, whose grin widens a bit.

"Yep," he answers. 

Casey looks back at the wall. There's another photo right next to the Santa picture, a man holding a little boy in his arms. Zeke again, and that must be his father. Dark hair, small, shadowed eyes, cragged face, a wide grin matching that of the boy he's got up at shoulder level, the two of them looking in each other's eyes. Another photo of a tall, slender woman in jeans and a paint-splattered shirt, a bandana around her head, lifting a cigarette to her mouth. Zeke's mom, no doubt about it. Casey begins to relax, lulled by the happiness in the photos, and turns back.

Zeke is watching him, his grin faded away. His eyes are wide, though, and he looks over Casey's body and back up to his face, and his tongue flicks out to lick his lower lip. Casey realizes suddenly that Zeke is _scared_ , just like him. He can see it in the tension of his body, and the way one hand is gently clenching over and over. Maybe it's a game, but maybe it's not. Only one way to find out. 

Casey takes the plunge.

\----------------

Zeke draws in a sharp breath as Casey drops to his knees on the riser he's standing on. He arches his back as Casey grabs his belt, pulls at it, undoing the buckle. He presses his lips together but a sound escapes anyway, and when Casey starts opening his fly, button by button, Zeke thrusts his hips helplessly and tips his head back. The pressure loosens and his dick strains into the air, and Zeke grins to himself at Casey's gasp. It's no surprise – Casey's not the type to go commando. Zeke squeezes his eyes tight at the feel of Casey's fingers stroking him tentatively. He shivers, pushing into that hand, warm and a bit damp from nervousness. Then he leans down and pulls Casey's face up and kisses him. He kisses him hard and long, playing with his mouth, getting him hot. Sitting up, he runs his other hand down Casey's back and around to the front of his jeans, and finds him hard again. _Oh yeah_ , Zeke thinks, _yeah_.

"Suck me, Casey," he gasps, "suck my dick," and he doesn't want to demand but fuck, he's demanding. He's on his last thread of control, and he tightens his hand on Casey's neck, guiding him. But he kisses him first, and then pushes gently, trying hard not to just shove his head down. He wants this hot, he wants it good – he wants Casey to want him. He closes his eyes and feels Casey's tongue moving in a lick, soft and wet, along the head of his dick. He gasps, and then Casey closes his mouth around him. Zeke throws his head back and cries out at the tight wet feel of it, and pushes up, thrusting. Casey wraps a hand around him, stroking as he sucks.

\----------------

Casey works his mouth, trying to open his jaws wide enough. It's strange, an uncomfortable movement, but he keeps at it, and finds it better when he stops straining and just relaxes. The skin of Zeke's dick is silky and hot, and Casey's surprised by his smell, something like bread fresh from the oven. It pulls a moan from his throat, and Zeke thrusts a little, his body tense. _He wants to go hard,_ Casey realizes, and sucks stronger, moving his mouth up and down. After a minute, he has to stop, and pulls back a bit to gasp, catching his breath. "Sorry," he says, and runs his lips up and down the shaft. He pulls at Zeke's jeans, and Zeke arches up to let Casey pull them down over his hips to his knees, freeing his balls and exposing his thighs. 

As he works himself up to go back to sucking, Casey cups Zeke's balls in his hand, stroking with his fingers around and down, feeling the wiry hair and the way they tighten up as he caresses. He licks at the skin where Zeke's thigh meets his hip, and then back to his dick. He thinks he can keep going this time, and looks up at Zeke, at his wide, desperate eyes and his tongue licking over and over at his lip, before he closes his mouth around him and pushes down as far as he can go.

\--------------------

Casey's eyes are bright, bright blue even in the darkness of the stairwell. Zeke bucks into his mouth, feeling the hot wet pressure. Casey turns his head a little and makes a sound as he adjusts his mouth, a sharp little _glg_ and Zeke feels it along his dick, hot tongue rolling up against him as the swallow convulses it and makes Casey close his eyes, brows knitting. And oh fuck, that sound is _it,_ and Zeke's hips go into overdrive, he thrusts fast, pushing at Casey's head. Casey takes it, braces his hands on the stairs at either side of Zeke's thighs, and works to keep sucking steadily. Zeke stares at the curve of Casey's jaw and the movement of his throat, and then the dark comes down and Casey has to buck back to keep from being choked as Zeke slams up into his mouth, his coming fast as lightning. One hard yell and he falls back, his spine knocked against the stairs but he doesn't care, falling, shuddering a little as he feels Casey's mouth working. _He swallowed,_ Zeke thinks, though he doesn't think about what it means.

\--------------------

Casey pulls his mouth away and gasps for breath. _Jesus, that was weird,_ he thinks, but it's not an unpleasant thought. He shivers a little, and realizes he's still hard, and did he like what he just did? There's a strange taste like bitter salt in his mouth, and his jaw aches, and an echo of Zeke's meaty thrusting makes his own dick twitch hard, and he realizes _Yeah, yeah, I liked it. I like it_. He wanted to do it. He wants to do it again. _Oh God,_ he thinks desperately, _this is real. This is happening._ For a minute he forgets where he is, the confusion is so intense, his hard-on so insistent that he grips the edge of the stairs and whimpers, moving his hips.

Then Zeke's fingers touch his forehead. Casey opens his eyes and looks up. Zeke is sitting up, smiling a little as he moves his fingers over Casey's face, runs his thumb over his lips as if to wipe them though there's nothing left to wipe away. Casey can't read that smile, and he wonders if this was all, and what he should do now. His chest tightens as Zeke lifts his hips and slides his jeans up and buttons them again. Then Zeke pulls him close, kisses him and doesn't stop for a while.

"Come on," Zeke murmurs, and he cups Casey's crotch with his hand again, rubbing. Casey bites his own lip and pushes into it. "We're not done yet." Zeke's tongue flicks at Casey's mouth, slides in, slides out, over his teeth, his lips. 

Casey stands up when Zeke does, follows him until they're nearly at the top of the stairs and then stops. Zeke turns and looks back down. He slides his hands into his pockets and leans a shoulder against the wall, and suddenly Casey can't stand how lean and arrogant and beautiful he is. His blood is knocking against every inch of his skin, and he thinks _no, please, no_ at the same time as he wants to photograph him, here in the half-light with that sleepy-sharp look in his eyes. But he only whispers, "What do you want from me?"

Zeke raises an eyebrow. His look turns serious, and he takes Casey's head in his hands. "What do I want?" he asks, looking thoughtfully at him. His lips lower and caress his, and he turns Casey and pushes him against the wall. His left hand moves down and squeezes him, and he runs the tip of his tongue lightly up and licks behind Casey's ear. 

"I want to see you come."

.


End file.
